


Knock Knock

by Mireille_DeMaupassant, supertallscandinaviangiant



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:05:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille_DeMaupassant/pseuds/Mireille_DeMaupassant, https://archiveofourown.org/users/supertallscandinaviangiant/pseuds/supertallscandinaviangiant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma's one moment of relaxation is interrupted by an unexpected visitor...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knock Knock

**Author's Note:**

> This was an accident. It may go somewhere, or nowhere at all. ^_^

Chapter 1

Emma sighed as she lowered herself into her bath, intensely grateful that she’d ignored her good sense and splurged on the two-bedroom with the spa ensuite. The day had not been kind to her. After three weeks of chasing her current subject with little more than breadcrumbs to follow, she’d thought she’d finally caught an honest-to-god tangible lead, but six hours into following her so-called witness's convoluted instructions, she realized that the asshole had been jerking her around the whole time. She was exhausted and frustrated and didn’t want to think about her job anymore, so she lied back and let her mind wander.

4B had looked particularly good this morning. The way his ass had filled those running shorts…

She felt a smile tug at her lips and a flush bloom over her skin that had nothing to do with the hot water enveloping her body. It felt a little ridiculous to be crushing on her neighbor like some teenager, but she kind of liked it. With her love life going about as well as her work life these days, maybe a harmless crush was exactly what she needed. Besides, with his looks, there was no way she had ever stood a chance of resisting him.

4B, whose name she hoped to learn someday (hopefully soon, if she could manage to exchange more than a passing nod with him), was a “regulation hottie,” as her friend and colleague, Ruby, would say: Thick, dark, perfectly tousled hair; bright, blue eyes like lightning in a rainstorm; strong, bearded jaw; lean, muscular frame; and a soft, gravelly murmur of a voice that made her want to lock herself in her bedroom with her favorite vibrator. She didn’t know anything about him, but that added to his appeal. He could have been anyone—a writer, a chef, a playboy athlete with a predilection for whiskey and late night calls to the home shopping network.

Tonight, he was her new partner in the FBI, and they were in the Federal Building downtown for a meeting, but the elevator malfunctioned, trapping them inside with nothing to do but get to know each other. Hours later, he was pressing his body to hers, holding her against the wall as he kissed her breath away. She closed her eyes and trailed her fingers over her chest as she imagined his hand following the same path, cupping her breast, working her nipple into a tight bead through the thin fabric of her imaginary blouse. His other hand drifted down to her skirt and dragged it up toward her hips. She raised her knees out of the water, drawing her legs apart in anticipation. Goose bumps bloomed across her skin when the cool, conditioned air hit her bare thighs, but he was soon there, rolling his hips into hers, spreading heat from her core to her ends. She thought of his arousal, stiff and bulging through the front of his jeans, rubbing against her tender flesh, shielded from him only by a scrap of lace, and let her free hand wander downward to where she ached to be touched.

She teased herself with light caresses, running her fingertips back and forth along the division of her vulva, grazing her emergent clit with each pass. Tendrils of pleasure snaked up her torso, tightening the muscles in her abdomen, shortening her breath. Already? Had it been so long? Switching gears to keep pace with her body, she slid two fingers into her cleft and thought of 4B’s hand under her skirt, inside her panties, stroking her just enough to drive her insane with need. Her cunt flooded instantly. There was a knock at her front door, but she ignored it, focusing instead on thick fingers sliding deep into her slick opening. They moved in and out of her while a thumb massaged her clit in slow, sensual circles that made her whimper.

The knock came again, louder this time. _It’s no one,_ she thought as she fingered herself frantically, chasing her satisfaction. _Don’t worry—_

Her visitor knocked a third time and her focus evaporated in a cloud of disappointment.

“Fuck,” she groaned as she sat up and pushed herself to her feet, not caring about the wave of sudsy water that sloshed onto her bathroom floor as she did so. She swung her leg over the side of the tub and put her foot down on the wet tiles, but when she transferred her weight to lift the other foot, the floor flew out from underneath her. She felt the impossible sensation of weightlessness before the floor rose to meet her. There was a sudden explosion of pain at the back of her head that radiated to her eyeballs and then, just as quickly, there was nothing at all.

<><><>

Disembodied voices echoed around her as she drifted in and out of the darkness.

“I need an ambulance at 127 Hudson Street, apartment 4A! Please hurry,” a familiar, almost hoarse voice called. There was so much concern in his words, she couldn’t help but wonder why.

“Is she waking up?” asked a new voice—a woman—that she didn’t recognize. “Emma? Can you hear me? You’re going to be fine, okay?”

“She’s going out again,” a different man said. “Keep pressure on that head wound!” Emma wanted to answer them, to tell them that she was fine—It was just a headache!—but it seemed to take an age for her to find her words.

“Miss Swan?” said yet another voice, much closer and clearer than the others. She opened her eyes and turned her head toward it, but only got eyeful of blinding light in return.

“What the hell?” she protested as she squinted and raised a hand to shield her face from the assault.

There was a soft click and the light was gone. When she lowered her hand again, she could see a man standing next to her bed, stashing a penlight away into the pocket of his white lab coat. “Sorry about that,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.

“Where am I?” she asked.

He walked to the foot of her bed, pulled out her chart, and began marking it with rapid scribbles. “Mass General,” he said without pausing. “You gave yourself a pretty good bump on the noggin. Can you tell me your full name?”

“Emma Swan,” she replied.

“Good, and who is the current president of the United States, Emma?”

“Barack Obama. Wait, I was in my apartment. How did I get here?”

“Your boyfriend found you unconscious in the bathroom and called 911.”

She furrowed her brow in confusion. “Boyfriend? I don’t—”

There was a loud throat-clearing as the third person in the room made his presence known. Emma whipped her head toward the sound, and, when she saw who was sitting in the chair next to her bed, she felt her eyes grow so large they could’ve popped out of her skull.

“Darling,” he said, leaning forward and placing a hand on the stiff hospital blanket covering her legs, his blue eyes silently pleading with her to go along with his ruse.

Emma looked back at her doctor, who was looking at the two of them with raised eyebrows. “Right,” she said quickly, shaking her head to sell the charade. “Sorry, I forgot I’d invited my boyfriend over.”

The doctor, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a half-dollar sized bag under each eye, gave her a look that very clearly said he neither believed her nor cared that she was lying. “We still have a few more tests to run, but I think it’s safe to say you’ll make a full recovery,” he went on, turning his attention back to her paperwork. “Your emergency contact has been notified and should be here to pick you up within the hour.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” she said with what she hoped was a grateful smile. He made a half-hearted attempt at returning it before dropping her chart back in its plastic shelf at the end of her bed and leaving the room. When the door closed behind him, she rounded on her remaining company.

“So, you’re the one who interrupted my bath.”

He chuckled nervously, removing his hand from her legs and running it through his hair, instead. “My sincerest apologies, love,” he said. She had to suppress a sigh as the full force of his English accent washed over her. “If I’d had any indication that you were so occupied, I wouldn’t have been so…persistent. Though, admittedly, it did seem to work out for the best.”

“True,” she replied, smiling despite her best efforts. “I got rescued and you got a girlfriend out of it.”

“Ah,” he said as a bit of pink saturated the parts of his cheeks not obscured by facial hair. “Sorry for that, too. I needed legitimate reason for being in your apartment.”

“And how did you get into my apartment? Because I definitely don’t remember inviting you in.”

“Well, after you didn’t answer your door, I started to leave, but I heard you fall so I, er, picked the lock. I know,” he went on when he saw her look of shock. “It was completely unethical and maybe a bit creepy, but, in my defense, it may have saved your life.”

Emma knew she should have been upset, but all she could do was laugh and wonder how much more ridiculous this day could get.

“I take it, by your apparent amusement, that you’re not going to report me to the authorities?”

“No,” she replied, quickly, and his whole body seemed to relax, which made her smile again. “Your secret’s safe with me. Do you have a name, or should I just call you my Knight in Shining Armor?”

“Forgive me,” he said, suddenly rising to his feet. He held out his hand. “Killian Jones, at your service.”

Pleasantly surprised by his formality, she grasped his hand in her own and gave it a firm shake. “Emma Swan.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Emma Swan.”

“Likewise.”

The point at which she should have released his hand came and went. He didn’t seem to mind, however, running his thumb over her skin between her thumb and index finger, and holding her gaze with his crystalline stare.

“Just out of curiosity,” she said, “what was so important that you had to interrupt my very relaxing evening? Desperate need of a cup of sugar?”

He chuckled softly and she realized she loved the way the outer corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed. “Actually,” he answered, “I had wanted to ask you out on a date.”

“Oh,” she said, somehow managing to contain her utter excitement. “Is that something you’re still interested in?”

“Very much so,” he answered in a rumbling murmur that tickled her insides. She smiled. “Tomorrow night work for you?”

“That it does."

“Good. Pick me up at 7.”

His lips parted, but whatever he was about to say was drowned out by the arrival of her emergency contact. The hospital room door flew open and she and 4B—Killian—let go of each other’s hands more quickly than two Amish teenagers.

“Oh my God, Emma!” a petite, round-faced brunette with a pixie cut gasped as she barged into the room and made a bee line for Emma’s bed with outstretched arms. “What happened? Are you okay? I’m so sorry it took me so long to get here!”

Emma smiled at her best friend and former roommate, leaning into her offered embrace. “Mary Margaret, I’m fine,” she said quickly, trying to head off any of the scenarios she was sure her friend had concocted on the ride over. (Pregnancy had ratcheted her already overactive maternal instincts into overdrive.) “Just a little bump on the head. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” Mary Margaret said, looking affronted and making Emma immediately regret her poor choice of words. “You’re in the hospital! I knew it was too soon for you to move out! You shouldn’t be on your own—”

“Well, it looks like you’re in more capable hands than my own, now,” Killian chimed in, “so, I'll just be on my way.”

Something told her she could’ve convince him to stay if she’d wanted to, but she was fine with him leaving. Better that he wasn’t there for all of Mary Margaret’s fussing.

“Thank you,” she said as he made his way to the door. He turned back and gave her a nod.

“’Til next we meet, Emma Swan.”

Then, he left. Two hours later, as she sat in the passenger seat of Mary Margaret’s Prius and replayed hers and Killian’s conversation in her mind, she realized with a wave of embarrassment, that, in saving her, Killian had most certainly seen her naked.


End file.
